


Not Like Father, Not Like Son

by c0rn



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Dark fluff, Ephebophilia, Human AU, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No mention of trolls or any other magic, Rationalization and self-awareness of inappropriate feelings, Slice of Life, implicit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 05:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0rn/pseuds/c0rn
Summary: A teacher-student relationship was not unheard of. A father-son type relationship between non-blood related individuals was also not unheard of. But for Walter Strickler, whatever his relationship was with James "Young Atlas" Lake Jr. seemed to fit neither mold. So he made it a priority to find out just what it could be though deep down, he already knew what it was, much to his dismay.





	Not Like Father, Not Like Son

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [不像父亲，不似爱子](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235755) by [EnzoZHI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnzoZHI/pseuds/EnzoZHI)



> Hah! Just because it's 2019, you think stuff like this is just gonna be gone forever? Forget about it!
> 
> Look, let's just get this out of the way, I am a controversial writer. But in this one tweet I read, I would rather describe my writing as “brave.” This explains why I have no loyal readers, let alone followers because I understand. I just don’t really write much. And also if you look at my work, you just find content that is not everyone’s fancy which is an understatement. And this fic is no different. You’ve read the tags, you knew what you’re getting into. I’ve explained myself enough and I have nothing to apologize for.
> 
> As for this fic, yes, I once again got into a fandom _way_ too late, fell in love with a character and in my own special way, gave them the limelight. Did this ship exist in tumblr way before the NSFW purge? If so, I regret not being there three years ago when I could've gotten lost in the content. But if it was never popular at all, then consider this a "spite ship."
> 
> _(I've edited this fic several times after uploading it. So, um...I hope you read it again. I really should read my work several times before uploading it. *sigh*)_

It was no secret that James Lake Jr., or ‘Jim’ for short, was Mr. Strickler’s favorite student. The teacher’s pet so to speak. Though he was far from the brightest student in school, never mind in his class, there was something of a bond between the two, a bond that seemed to surpass between teacher and student.

He was aware of the teenage boy’s history and home life; Jim’s father having left the family when he was a child, having been raised only by his mother since then, and his mother’s job keeping him from seeing her on a regular basis. It was obvious that Jim craved attention, and perhaps he had been looking up to his teacher as some sort of father figure. Walter was then quite eager to fulfill such a part.

Walter found out during a talk with Jim and his mother that the boy felt overwhelmed by his responsibilities at home, which included cooking, cleaning the house, taking care of his overworked mother, and trying to fit in all of the responsibilities he had in school such as doing homework or if the class called for it, finishing a project, hence, why he had fallen asleep in class. Concerned, he said that he reminded him of Atlas and how he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. From that point on, he called him Young Atlas. The moniker had stuck, and he rarely called Jim by his name.

While at school, ‘Young Atlas,’ he would utter and before Jim could turn around, he’d reply ‘Mr. Strickler,’ and then wonder why he was called. It was Walter alone who had given him such a name that paled in comparison to the rather plain and oft-used nickname for ‘James’. Their bond seemed to grow the more he and his student engaged in small talks while at the hall, after class, and if the two just happened to cross paths with each other. Although it was nice, Walter desired to know him better.

He thought back to the conversation with Young Atlas’s mother, Barbara. The woman seemed to be taken by his charms, though he certainly did not mean to do so. Was it his voice, his way with words, his style? He couldn’t say. Still, he meant to use it as a means to gain enough of her trust in him to be close enough with her son. Having given his number to her, she was free to call him anytime she wanted.

She, like Young Atlas, had been stretched too thin with a job that demanded her presence almost 24/7, a subject he had brought up during a talk with Barbara over tea.

“I guess that’s one thing my son and I have in common,” she said. “Being a doctor is not easy at all. But this is the job I chose. It keeps a roof over our heads and buys all the ingredients that Jim uses to show off what he can whip up in the kitchen with what we’ve got.”

Walter gave a small laugh. “Yes, I’m familiar with his talent in the culinary arts. I do wonder where he got that from.”

“Oh, definitely not from me. His father was--”

Walter just stared as he saw Barbara suddenly stopped herself mid sentence. She composed herself and continued. “I mean, he had a pretty good teacher.”

Walter knew when to change the subject in a conversation to break the awkward silence. “Speaking of teachers, and I hope you don’t take it as me being a bit forward, what do you think of me... as his teacher?” he asked Barbara.

“You seem to think of people’s best interests,” she answered. “I know you think of Jim’s and if I’m not mistaken, even mine as well. So in my book, I think that makes you a great man.”

Walter smirked at her somewhat.

“I mean, teacher! I think that makes you a great teacher.” After laughing off the little blunder, she then added, “You’re doing a great job.”

“Then that makes two of us,” said Walter. He smiled and took a sip of his tea.

“You know, Jim thinks the world of you.”

Were it not for his manners heavily ingrained in his psyche, he would’ve spluttered and spilled the tea all over the table. Instead, Walter’s eyebrows raised slightly at Barbara’s words.

Curious, he asked, “You think so?”

Barbara nodded. “Whenever I would ask him how his day was at school, he’d talk about his friends, what he did and, you know, typical teenager stuff but he always mentioned you.”

As Walter slowly put his teacup down on the saucer, Barbara continued to speak of her son and how Young Atlas liked their small talk. The advice that he was given, simple words of encouragement and the like made going to school less of a chore for the boy.

Walter did begin to notice improvements in his performance not just in his class, but in others as well. His social circle had grown and was now apparently friends with that Claire girl he used to stare at all the time in class. Along with the fat one called Tobias, he was now part of a trio. Most of all, gone were those tired eyes and with each passing day, Young Atlas was happy to be in school.

He felt a warm hand touch his own. It was Barbara’s.

“He looks up to you, you know that?”

Walter had, in a way, already known but it wasn’t confirmed in his mind until now. He smiled at her again, this time much more sincerely. He was very touched.

He put his hand upon hers. They stare at each other for a while.

The words continued to echo in his mind as Walter lay on his bed. He saw in Barbara’s eyes that she thought she might have found the one. Someone who was not selfish enough to think of the people in his life. The father Jim deserved.

And yet, a father he did not want to be. The bond he craved for with Young Atlas was something more and admittedly, something forbidden. Something frowned upon by society in general. Although he usually didn’t care what other people thought of him, he still had a reputation to maintain which made sure he was respected enough by everyone. He might not be a man of high morals—with his thoughts, he was definitely not a man of high morals—but he was no fool.

Walter wanted him in a way that was not innocent. If he so much made it clear to the boy his true intentions, he would soon tell his mother, then his mother would banish him from their lives, and he’d be told to never speak to him again. Many times his heart was broken in such a way and in his shame, would have to move far, far away. A man could only have so many chances to start anew in a place where the past would never catch him. Though he was reluctant to admit it, he was afraid—afraid of his feelings, and of himself.

Therapy never helped for they only told him things he already knew. A therapist would not encourage a person with homicidal tendencies to embrace said tendencies. Therefore, one must find a way to express those feelings in a manner that hurt no one nor themselves. Simply put, it must be repressed. And yet, those same people also advise not to repress any feelings. So Walter found himself asking ‘which is it?’

The answer for him would come to a head when out of the blue, Barbara asked him for a really big favor. She needed to do a double shift in the clinic which left Jim unsupervised in the house.

“I know Jim can take care of himself and babysitting isn’t exactly part of your job description but I just want him to have some company for once when I’m gone,” she said. “I don’t know who else to call. Can you do this for me, please? You’re the only one I can trust.”

Trust... That one word held such great weight. After many talks and cups of tea just outside a small shop, it had come to that point. He was at a loss for words, but a worried voice on the other end of his phone brought him back.

“Yes,” he replied. “I... I’ll do it. For Jim. And for you, of course.”

“Thank you so much, Walt,” said Barbara, the relief palpable in her voice. “I promise I will find a way to pay you back. You have done so much for our small family. Thank you, thank you!”

With every thanks brought a shot of pain in Walter’s heart. “You’re very welcome, Barbara.”

So he got on his car and drove through the streets of Arcadia Oaks to the Lake residence. He rang the doorbell and there he found Young Atlas, answering the door.

“Mr. Strickler!” he exclaimed. “So it is true. Mom said you were coming over to watch me.”

The hug from the boy took him aback. Walter hoped that the blush beginning to form on his face was not noticeable. The hug disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Sorry, I was just happy to see you.” Young Atlas put his arms behind him, smiling a bit. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of blush on him as well.

Now that he was here, he simply let the boy do what he wanted which was, of course, cooking. And along with that was talking. Not wanting to disturb him in the kitchen, Walter simply sat on the table as he rubbed his palms against his lap. They had begun to sweat. Then he used the napkin on the table to wipe the sweat on his brow. Walter then thought that the set up seemed to be too fancy for a simple dinner.

What if...?

He shook away the thought. It’s not what it looked like, he told himself. He even slapped himself to keep it together. Too bad the boy caught him in the middle of it.

“Is everything okay?” Young Atlas asked him.

“Oh, yes! It was just a pesky mosquito,” he fibbed.

“Anyway, dinner is served.”

The dinner seemed to go on and on as Walter and Young Atlas struck a conversation. Having known everything there was to know about the boy, it was time for Walter to give the answers.

“Yes, I am obviously not of this country,” he said. “And my accent is just going to be here to stay. No sense in changing that when it’s proper English that even people here can understand fine. But for everyone’s sake, I try not to pull out the old thesaurus.”

Jim was intrigued. “So why did you move here? That is, if you’re okay with talking about that. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Or if you like, you can also give me a vague answer. You know, your choice.”

Walter took some time to chew his food, which was of course exquisite, as he thought of what to answer. Once he formed the words in his head, he swallowed. “I’m not particularly fond of talking about my past. I’ve had to leave a lot of people that I once knew—friends, families... I even try to forget them. When I stop by a place that I thought I’d finally consider home, something just happens that does not allow me to even consider that.”

Jim stopped eating as his intent to listen intensified. “So you don’t consider this home then?”

“Pardon?” said Walter.

“You don’t consider Arcadia Oaks home?” Jim clarified.

For once, Walter couldn’t even come up with a vague answer. It was a yes or no question and there were only two choices. Either one he chose didn’t feel right for him to say out loud. So he just had to avoid it and hopefully Young Atlas wouldn’t think to go back to it.

“An old saying goes ‘home is where the heart is.’ Do you know what that means?”

Jim thought of it briefly. “It just means wherever you feel the most love, that’s home. It doesn’t have to be a house, or a town, or even a country.”

Walter looked at him with a proud smile. “You are wise, Young Atlas.”

There was a smile on the young boy’s face that said it all and the warmth of the dinner couldn't compare with the warmth in their chests.

With dinner over with and the dishes cleaned, Young Atlas had decided to have an early night leaving Walter all alone in the living room to watch TV if he wanted. However, he was too distracted by his own thoughts to even do anything. He just gazed at the faint reflection he saw in front of the television. It didn't took long for him to be deafened by the silence and urged by the voice in his head to finally get up from his seat and make his way to the staircase.

Ever so slowly, he put one foot in front of the other until he was finally upstairs. Then he noticed that one door was open. There was no question who it belonged to. Again, he slowly walked towards it, slightly tilting his head to the entrance to see that the boy was only sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down on the floor. When the boy looked up slightly, Walter quickly withdrew his head.

“Mr. Strickler?”

Walter cursed silently. He had been spotted.

“Are you out there?” Jim called for him again.

“Er, yes,” replied Walter. “Yes I am.”

No turning back now that the cat was out of the bag. Walter slowly made his way to the front door, showing himself. 

“There was just nothing to watch and, well, I thought I’d walk around to see the house until I decided to come upstairs where I stumbled upon just outside your door. Excuse me if I startled you.”

“We can talk some more right here, if you like. I’m not that tired yet,” Jim said, waving for him to come inside.

Walter couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream. He was all alone with Young Atlas. In his bedroom, no less. When he sat down beside him on his bed, he felt his heart racing. He even started sweating again but much more profusely.

Young Atlas seemed to have noticed. “I guess it’s a pretty warm night.”

Walter wiped his head, trying to keep his cool. “It would seem so. For me, at least.”

“Maybe you should take off your coat.”

Walter wanted to scream. If only the boy knew what he was doing to him. And he could feel a blush coming in again. No doubt that it was quite visible now.

“You’re starting to look kinda hot.”

Walter couldn’t hold it back. He had to say something. Now.

He turned to him quickly and asked, “Young Atlas, what am I to you?”

Jim was unsure of the question. “Um… what do you mean by that?”

“What do you see me as? A mentor? A friend? A father figure? Anything, just tell me.”

The boy was starting to look confused as Walter held him by the side of his arms, looking him in the eyes. His eyes were as blue as his own eyes were green. He waited for the answer but he wasn’t getting any. Suddenly, his one hand began to caress the young one’s cheek, startling him. His face, slowly getting closer.

“Mr. Strickler, what are you doing?” Jim asked, startled as ever.

Walter answered not with words but with action. In no time, their lips touched. After a few seconds, he pulled them away.

The boy scooted a bit to the side and kept his distance.

Walter looked away and covered his mouth. He shut his eyes, hoping that it was all a nightmare and that he really had not just done what he did. He could see it now, Young Atlas yelling at him to get out. And once that happened, he would do just that, never to look back again. Eventually, he would have to leave town and begin the painful process of starting over and most likely failing. A tear was threatening to fall from his eye.

He felt a tug on his sleeve and heard his name being called. He looked to the side to see Young Atlas.

“Mr. Strickler, I don’t know what’s happening,” he said.

Walter couldn’t bear the innocence of the boy’s face staring back at him. But he also couldn’t bear the feeling in his heart. He knew right then there really was no turning back. It had to happen.

He must proceed.

Walter grabbed the boy and said, “If you want me to stop, just say so.”

Then he kissed him, his tongue wanting to pry those lips open. Jim had begun to whimper and Walter took the opportunity to ravage the inside of his mouth. He then began kissing his neck, taking in his scent which smelled of hormones.

Walter then pushed the boy down on the bed and ran his hands underneath his shirt, the excitement of it making him take off his coat. At that point, Walter was waiting for anything from the boy that told him to stop or at least an act of resistance like a push or a kick to his stomach. He stopped for awhile. Young Atlas had been crying, his eyes were red and quivering.

Suddenly, however, the boy reached for the zipper on his jacket and pulled it down, uncovering a white shirt underneath. His once panicked breathing began to calm down and his tears had stopped. Now, Walter was feeling confused when Young Atlas shot him a look. Before they knew it, things started to move again. Their breaths became hot, their bodies warm, and their movements erratic as Walter kissed and touched him some more, leading to the both of them to undress completely.

With their clothes now on the floor, Walter rolled the boy on his stomach as he positioned himself on top of him. Jim's face was buried in the sheets. Walter couldn’t see his expression when he tried to consummate their bond once and for all. They said not one word but the noises they made. No one was prepared.

Walter grabbed on to Jim as tight as he could, marking the boy's skin with his long fingers. Jim buried his face on the sheets, muffling his screams until they start to die down. They felt not only the bed shake but also the entire room. With one final move, Walter's face scrunched up and felt the release knocking the wind out of him, screaming as he did. He then fell right on top of the boy who had apparently passed out long before he did. He remained there to try and catch his breath, letting the sweat all over his body run down.

An hour or more had passed. Barbara had not come home yet.

Walter took to sitting on the living room couch with a glass of water on his hand. His once well-groomed hair had become a mess and his coat had been wrinkled. When he got on his feet to dress himself up, he remembered looking on Young Atlas’s tired frame and seeing a bit of red between his legs. If it got into the sheets, there would be evidence of what had transpired which would lead to Barbara finding out. A doctor would know what a bloodstain looked like. The scene played out in his head again and in his panic, he dropped his glass of water, spilling it all over the floor.

Then his ears perked up to the sound of running water from upstairs. It was like a soft drizzle. Walter deduced that the boy had taken to cleaning himself in the showers. Then he heard it stop.

He heard uneven footsteps descending the staircase. Afterwards, he watched Jim walk gingerly towards the couch. To his surprise, he sat down beside him but not before turning on the TV to a random channel.

Jim looked at the screen for a moment. “There weren’t any stains.”

Walter was taken aback by the sudden words. “I... I beg your pardon?”

“There weren’t any stains on my bed. My mom doesn’t have to know. No one has to know.”

Walter should be relieved, but it’s not what he felt. He was more unsettled by how Young Atlas was handling himself.

He felt the need to address the elephant in the room. “We both know what I did was wrong.”

Jim continued to stare forward but he heard him. “I looked up to you like the dad I wish I had.”

Walter remembered his question from before. There was a sense of closure even if the answer was delayed.

Jim went on speaking. “But after what happened tonight, I don’t know anymore. I thought I was like a son to you.”

Walter took a deep breath. “I thought that way too. But the more I looked inward, the more I realized that what I felt for you was not appropriate. I knew that I had to keep it to myself. And yet, I continued to be with you as much as I could, even outside of class. I can’t really explain the feeling and why it had to be you. Why not someone older? Why not anyone else?”

He buried his face on his hands. “It’s tearing me apart every time and I couldn’t help it. Being alone with you in your house was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I have no one to blame.”

One of his hands were being pulled away from his face. Young Atlas held his hand and rested it upon his lap as he slid closer to Walter and rested his head on his shoulder.

“I don’t feel like going to sleep anymore. Let’s just watch TV in case mom comes back.”

Walter agreed that that was a good idea. And when Barbara did come home that late night, she was none the wiser. She even seemed to find it cute seeing her two boys asleep on the couch side by side with the TV still running.

If only someone knew.


End file.
